Page 80 of The Witness

My gaze shot back to the fireplace. An ethereal oil painting of a teen girl hung over the mantel. I’d not thought much of it on first glance, but a realization was slowly dawning. The girl in the portrait was Marney.

We were having Christmas brunch with a ghost.

I swam through the rest of the morning in a haze. My heart ached for Beth. I’d lost a daughter before her time, too. I’d left Hailey’s room untouched and had tattooed a shallot on my arm. My memorials to my daughter.

But I’d promised myself and Hailey that her room would become my home office as soon as Viande’s doors opened. My therapist warned me if I let it go too long, it wouldn’t get easier, only harder. When I told him of the deal I’d struck with Hailey, he agreed it was a good milestone. And made me promise if I backed out, I’d call him.

After looking at the painting over the Steels’ fireplace one more time, I renewed my promise to my daughter to succeed not only at Viande but also at life.

Beth hadn’t moved on. Neither had Tom or Michael. This was a family in mourning.

Our food eaten, Michael stood, ready to leave. I couldn’t blame him. The morning had had the tenor of a funeral.

Leaving his parents was like arriving, but in reverse. On the way out, his mom pressed a brightly wrapped present into his hands and whispered that it was from Santa. My heart hurt watching the exchange. His gifts to his parents were sitting on the kitchen counter where he’d left them when we came in.

When we were back in his car, he sighed long and low. His closed eyes had dark shadows under them, and he clenched his jaw so tight it had to hurt.

“She’s been dead for how long?”

“Sixteen years. But my family was broken before that.”

He put the car in reverse and started driving. He turned out of the development and stuck to the neighborhood streets, passing under I-95 and continuing east. We were parked at the municipal beach parking lot before he spoke again.

“Walk with me?”

Chapter 36

Michael

What a way to ruin Christmas. I slammed the driver’s side door and paused to pull my shit together before I helped Sabrina out. I took a deep breath. The brine of the ocean air cleared the lingering scent of my mom’s perfume from my nose.

I opened the car door and held my hand out to Sabrina. She hopped from the car, pulling on a sweater. She didn’t say a word, but her green eyes shone with sympathy. Her pity made me uncomfortable. I was sure the unpleasant feeling wouldn’t be going away soon.

“Marney and I would walk the beach and talk. Not this beach, of course. We were in Miami back then.” I led her up the wooden stairs that topped the dunes and climbed back down the other side to the sand. We both kicked off our shoes, leaving them by the steps.

The Atlantic Ocean lapped the shore under a blue sky dotted with puffy clouds. A handful of brightly colored beach towels populated with tourists soaking up sun on their holiday vacations dotted the sand.

It was one of those Florida winter days that were warm in the sun and cold in the shade. The salty breeze carried the tiniest bite of winter chill.

“Are you going to be warm enough?” I asked her.

“I’m fine. Let’s walk.” She tugged my hand, taking me down to the water’s edge where the sand was firm and our feet in danger of getting wet.

I let her pull me along as thoughts raced through my head faster than the receding waves lapping at our toes. I needed to explain my family to Sabrina. She had already diagnosed the major malfunction: Marney’s death. But the rest of the damage had taken years to fester into the cold war she’d just experienced.

“Marney was the center of our family. She was bright and beautiful. Everyone loved to be around her.” I couldn’t look at Sabrina or I’d lose my shit. Talking about my sister was like pouring battery acid on an open wound. So I looked down at my feet, the sand, and the seashells.

“But…” she prompted softly when I’d stopped talking for about ten or fifteen steps.

“She was an addict.” I rolled my shoulders, trying unsuccessfully to let go of some of the tension balling them up by my ears. It felt like a betrayal to label Marney with such a cold, unfeeling title.

“Loving someone that loves their addiction more than themselves is devastating.”

“Yes.” Part of me wanted to stop the conversation right here. Sabrina had summarized everything that was wrong with the Steel family with that observation. We’d been devastated, andafter Marney was gone, there had been enough blame to go around. The issue was that sixteen years later we were still doling out the guilt.

“I was the kind big brother that kept other kids from picking on his little sister. When she started dating, the guys were afraid of me, not Dad. I had a better left hook. She leaned into my protection, begging me to get her out of every scrape.”

“I can see that.”

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